


Youngblood dipped into war

by kurojiri



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Enemies to Friends, F/M, Falling In Love, Internal Conflict, Pining, Semi-Canon Compliant, Sort Of, The Golden Trio, background darry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-14 15:04:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16915143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurojiri/pseuds/kurojiri
Summary: Pansy Parkinson grew up believing in love, and when the coming war had started to shape her life she wondered again if love could save her this time.





	Youngblood dipped into war

**Author's Note:**

> “You were the sun, and I was crashing into you. I'd wake up every morning and think, 'This will end in flames.”―Rainbow Rowell, Carry On

She hadn’t ever considered the following parts of her life changing so dramatically, of her mind swimming and suffocating when Draco told her and their usual crew of what had happened after the summer before beginning their fifth year. He never explicitly said what had happened in the walls of the Malfoy manor, but she had known by the way his skin was pale and how tired he looked when he tried to keep the image of being a proud Slytherin. It almost was pathetic how much she felt crushed herself.  
  
To see the day when she began to doubt her family and the colors she wore for years, and now onwards in her fifth year.  
  
She had always been a happy girl, with known privileges since her status had been high for a while. But the price her parents paid, and her choices becoming slimmer Pansy knew it would all topple in some manner. And it would be by Potter’s lot too. She would have loved to hex them, but she had also understood their stance. Young people were always monitored by their elders and fewer had the courage to stand up again the Dark Lord. It could have been simpler; but it couldn’t either because the war was more than Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort.  
  
It was about principles that had been lost. Of the more rowdy and bigoted people that blew over the traditionalists views of conserving old practices and the overly progressive people feeling too ignorant of not being heard enough. The balance had tipped too far and extreme that it had been hard to be a pureblood with traditional views and not look like a bigot. Merlin knows her mother had trouble when the first war had divided the wizarding world in Britain. The few years since the demise, and now apparent resurrection had made it all feel real.  
  
She was sure Draco had been acting for the safety of his family being, as they evidently had been chosen into helping their Dark Lord soon, as well for allowing his crowds find refugee in the Malfoy Manor for their meetings.  
  
None of them said anything, knowing perfectly well, that soon the Dark Lord would eventually use more of Draco’s home.

 

 

 

 

It still didn’t make her forget about Umbridge.  
  
The woman had been a terrible person. A deplorable example of someone how should have never been allowed to teach; she had been far too extreme with her ideas of how the world should have worked. On the outside Pansy did her best, she knew she had made her mistakes when she heard of the detentions. But self-preservation had taught her enough to survive that year. (Even if their hands and arms would still haunt her.)

 

 

 

  

Neville Longbottom was not just an idiot. He was a moron and far too much of a Gryffindor for her tastes. And yet, she couldn’t stop watching him. Herebology hadn’t been her area of expertise and while she knew she would have her strengths and weaknesses, she still wanted to gain better grades each year. It had been a mistake when she sat close to Longbottom and took notes of how he personally worked the plants they were introduced and the way he taught other people that asked him questions. They were far more helpful than the textbook explanations that Granger gave. He had a knack of being soft and tender.  
  
He was not someone she should have found interest in, and yet, Pansy was losing control of her thoughts. She knew well enough, had enough experiences too, to understand where her heart strained. Draco had been the same when he struggled to maintain his own pretenses. Their little outings had been a cover. A brief steam of having them curling into balls of worries without having to maintain their masks.  
  
She did not want to accept it.  
  
The sense of having her old memories crashing and colliding with the present did not bode well for her. It had only complicated everything else that revolved in her life. Especially, when it concerned to Longbottom; he had grown since the first time she had to mingle in the same room as him in Hogwarts. Devastating really. All his old quirks had become enduring. It distracted her more the longer she anticipated and gravitated to his magic.  
  
One day she wouldn’t be affected by him; she constantly prayed it would near. Until then, Pansy would just have to suffer until it would come or her heart to move along to another phase or face.  
  
He couldn’t have picked the worst time to enter the greenhouse. Pansy had suppressed her tears, but it had been too late; he had seen her losing her heart. Longbottom, the ever gentleman didn’t outright mock her. Didn’t pity her the way she thought most boys did when they encountered a crying girl, he had been calm and patient. She didn’t give him an inch for her to clean her face and walk away. The air may have been heavy with her emotions and magic humming, but Longbottom had allowed her to pull her mask up before she left the place.  
  
He never said anything about when he caught her again the next week.

  
  
  


 

He never did, and it annoyed her how his eyes were too kind and forgiving when she knew she had bullied him before. Honestly, sometimes she thought that the Gryffindors were hopeless as they were reckless. They could be so explosive with their tantrums and righteousness; however, Longbottom had been one of the rare ones where his angry never truly reigned in his actions. He started to gain more confidence within himself, and she had had seen it in random hallways and other classes they shared. (She didn’t want to acknowledge it, because if she did then she would lose more of herself for wanting something with him.)

But nothing couldn’t stray for the truth to not come forward. It had started subtle, but she had known that Longbottom had been becoming a new version of himself each day she looked at him from afar. His back straighten as much as he started to pry off bullies for the younger years. And as selfless he was, Pansy was becoming more lost. She couldn’t walk away from her path her heart took her to, and even with Draco being a lovely friend they both knew what would happen. She would lose the battle. Her heart would ruin her, just like how Draco lost his years ago when he met Potter.

They were such idiots for believing in love, and with having the war becoming more real with each passing day they knew their luck would run out soon enough. Neither could fault each other, and as much Pansy knew how wrong it had been to keep on hoping for love, she knew more that Longbottom was her own poison. They never interacted, and while she didn’t outright bully him anymore the rest of the world had still believed that she was a bloody wretch. (She didn’t correct them; couldn’t when she felt it had been impossible to even try to lessen the blow when she heard of other girls seeing what she saw first.)

Pansy Parkinson did not sneer, but it had been so close when she encountered The Golden Trio. She had been minding her own business when they appeared. The heated looks hadn’t been worse than before, the only difference was how Potter glanced at how she had laced her arms with Draco. She very quickly and with perfect elegance she might add, leaned her head on Draco’s shoulder. (Pansy wanted so much to laugh out loud at how she noticed Potter’s jaw tensed and how his arms and whole body really, became stiff when she matched her grin with his glare.)

Draco, being a good sport, allowed the public (but very mutual and platonic) affections. The side comments didn’t bother her, and while Draco had loved the verbal clashes he shared with Potter, Pansy grew tired of it. She loved Draco, she really did, but that had been the difference. He loved someone who was both stubborn and righteousness to butt heads with him; whereas, Pansy, she’d love a gentle lover that didn’t fear her whip of a mouth and streak of independence. He could have fun with his banters with Potter. She just wanted to live in the same world where she could love and not hide how afraid she was once they left Hogwarts.

(When they left the trio Pansy didn’t bother to look at how Longbottom had been too close to Lovegood and Weasley girl.

She would not show how much it hurt. She was a Parkinson, and she would not cry over a boy. Period.)

They never had a good reason to talk to each other. And that had helped her curb her desire to get to know more about him, it didn’t seem like he and the universe wanted the same things as her. It all bared when potions class turned the tables. Snape’s assignment had reached her table as people were called up and partnered. And as she grabbed her bag she heard Longbottom’s name with hers. She didn’t bat an eye, nor did she pity Draco for being paired with Weasley. Potter though, had been moved to a table behind hers and next to Draco’s. Granger had been lucky with her being partnered with Blasie.

The class time swelled up with her reading the instructions and having a sheepish Longbottom hesitating when he touched the ingredients. As he should! They both knew that she would be working for the bulk for them.

It still didn’t stop him from being a fair guy as he tried his best to collect, grind and chop most of the easier and tamer ingredients they had. He was a slow worker, and if they had all day Pansy was sure he could have been a mediocre assistant. Nonetheless, they didn’t and Pansy had to work with the double trouble while at the same time trying to give him a crash course of potions 101. She knew he had listened to her advice, but it still didn’t stop from him stumbling into having part of the potion destroyed.

It had been one of the rare days when Pansy had a terrible mark in that class.

And one when she didn’t explode outwardly. (She hated how his face paled when she calmly cleaned their work space. And also, when they had missed their lunch for completing a makeup assignment for that failed mark to compensate their averages.

That had been the only good thing, with Snape liking her a bit more than compared to him loathing Longbottom’s work in his class.)

  
  
  


 

She had never understood why he kept quiet. Each time she had been left alone, Pansy restrained herself from walking up to Longbottom to find out his reasoning. Nobody could be that kind.

 _Nobody_.

Only a fool—only, Pansy could ( ~~almost~~ ) see why he did.

Pansy had always valued people that could hide their intentions but still be pure. She respected those that had their flaws out in the open too without shame. Draco was her friend for a reason; they each been given requests, expectations, and they had always been walking in a tight sharp line. Neither of them had mastered being hanged, but they got close to it several times. She still wanted to be loved, but power and influence sometimes helped her survive another day in Hogwarts.

Longbottom had obviously learned to grow strong and humble under conditions others would have perished. Pansy knew that, had seen it when she didn’t want to, but it hadn’t helped her when she was once again inside a random greenhouse. She had not been crying.

Longbottom had. (Quietly, with few droplets falling when he had looked up at her loud entrance.) Pansy did not know how to broach the topic when it had been her turn to see him crumpled and alone.

“Longbottom,” her voice had been ambivalent. She had taken a step forward. Tentatively, as Longbottom studied how her face had been pale and flushed from the cold winds outside.

The corner of his mouth quirked up. It singed with emotion. “I’ll be alright. Thank-you for your concern.”

They had never been friends. Self-sufficient to say, she left with a pounding heart. It pounded harder when he didn’t look any happier the following days. Not that she had a good reason to care.

( ~~But she did anyways~~.)

 

 

 

   
  
Longbottom and Pansy had been working on another section of potions together again, upon Snape’s request she and Draco would rotate working with him and Potter and Weasley. Verses with Granger and Patil working with Goyle, Crabbe and Finnigan. It had been an experiment that so far, had been working.

Her only complaint was how dense Potter was that Draco liked him back too. At least Weasley and Granger knew that she and Draco were not an actual item. It made it intolerable when she worked with Potter though, with him scrutinizing her when he thought she didn’t know. She laughed it off when it had been Weasley and Longbottom. As strange as it had been, Weasley lived in the same space of hearing from Potter liking Draco. (It had been because of that reason that they shared few stories of their lives with those hopeless fools when the potions had been long and tedious.)

Longbottom, though, his time with her had also changed. It became calmer and anxious; Pansy had remembered how cold and lonely he had been that day. She never brought up.

He did.

He had been in the middle of cleaning their cauldron when he spoke. It had been both uneasy and silent when his mouth moved. A hand brushed away some stray locks from his face.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you that day.” Longbottom had outwardly looked composed, the only thing she could pin that he had not been okay was how in end his words slurred into a sad hum.

Pansy could still comprehend what he wanted to do, what he prayed she would give him for all the hours and days he gave her when she had been the one crying. Her head nodded at the same she replied.

“It’s no problem.”

“Still.” Longbottom had always been known for wanting to get along with others.

Regardless of house, the older he got. (Sometimes Pansy could see why he had not gone to Hufflepuff but, rather Gryffindor.) His righteousness to be bold had made him daring to challenge others and their ideals.

“I mean it Longbottom. We’re sort of past that, aren’t we? With how many times you’d already seen me a mess. I won’t tell a soul, so long as you find a buddy to talk to about it.”

“Like how I am right now?”

She eyed him, “Depends. Do you really fancy talking about your worries with a Slytherin?”

Longbottom didn’t look output, he actually looked like he had been perfectly fine with talking to her. Almost relaxed too. Color came back to his cheeks as he rinsed the rest of their tools. “You haven’t pulled any hexes yet. I count that as us being okay to talk now. Or have I presumed too much?”

“I—” Pansy paused. “I don’t think your Gryffindor buddies would agree if you suddenly started to converse with—”

Longbottom didn’t bat an eye. “My real friends will accept it.”

She squared her shoulders, contemplating if it had been worth it to splurge a couple of more minutes with him alone in the potion’s classroom. “So longs you don’t go mopping on me. Merlin knows I already have to waste enough of me precious hours listening to my best friend pining over Potter.”

They chuckled together as they both have seen Draco and Potter when they bantered and aggressively started to flirt in their undertone insults. (They both really needed to confess. Pansy couldn’t handle another day of Draco whining and pinning.)

“But seriously, Longbottom. If you ever do need an ear to listen I’ll be there.”

She hadn’t meant for her own voice to have been uncharacteristically gentle with someone who had not been within her circle of confidants. He saw that; Longbottom had sensed how vulnerable they both were. With no witnesses left in the classroom his whole face lit up, quickly like a flower blooming under a high beaming sun. It blinded her how her own face burned too when it had been directed for her. Only for, and specifically her.

“Thank-you, _Pansy_.”

And right away, he pushed the limits by calling her by her first name and not last name. (He would be the death of her.)

“Only you Gryffindors and the Hufflepuffs get over excited when someone shows you a bit of empathy or sympathy.” There hadn’t been any heat in her words. They had been—playful. Borderline teasing. “As if, were friends for a long time.”

Longbottom’s smile didn’t disappear. “But wouldn’t that been nice if we had been?”

 _Yes, it would have been_. Pansy thought.

If they had not lived in the same world they did now. One where the Dark Lord had not been brought back, and nothing could have hurt her to love him. Because in this one, her happiness had started to become thinner. Her own family would not agree. Could not when they had already pledged with Draco’s family to _him_.

She didn’t bother to reply for him to know her answer. Her own silence had been enough for them to know that somethings were nice to think about. Even if they would always be that, simple musings.

Pansy would not yet tell him everything that had been in-scripted inside her heart. She probably would never with the up coming war. But for now, she would bide her time on earth and foster these few moments with him. Because, it meant that it would be harder to continue loving him soon when they both knew the war would eventually part them away for their personal ideals and families’ concerns and views.

Pansy Parkinson grew up believing in love; and with the war coming screaming in the background of Hogwarts she wondered if love could save her this time around. If not, then at least she felt and known Neville Longbottom’s compassion when he had asked her to be his friend.


End file.
